‘When you say gone—’

‘Her flat was exactly as we’d left it two days before. Our drinks and biscuits still on the table.’

‘I assume you called her.’

‘Yes, but she isn’t answering.’

‘And you’ve no idea where she is?’

‘She’d scribbled something on a notepad about a tour but… I don’t know. She’s done this before but, with the anniversary and the notes and me thinking I saw him outside of her flat, it feels… wrong. The police aren’t worried. There’s no sign of a struggle. But… I don’t know what to think. George says Marie is resourceful and not to worry.’

‘I’m sure he’s right,’ Francesca says. ‘And…’ She glances down at her notes, her pen scratches against paper. ‘How are things with George?’

I search for the word. ‘Strained.’ A pang of sadness spears my chest. ‘He’s upset I’m wearing these again’ – I waggle my gloved hands – ‘and he’s… scared, I suppose, that I’m going to spiral back to the stage where I won’t let Archie out of my sight. But he’s trying to understand. He brought me home a bouquet of flowers and we’ve been talking… or trying to. It isn’t easy. Perhaps I should bring him here for a couples session?’

‘I don’t think it’s the right time for that. Let’s get you feeling more in control first, shall we?’

‘Yes. Please.’ In control is exactly how I want to feel.

After I’ve left Francesca’s with a clutch of CBT exercises to try at home, I drive to Marie’s, letting myself in with the spare key. Nothing has changed. She hasn’t been back. I conduct a more thorough search this time and find some old flyers for productions she has been in. I google the companies that produced them but most are no longer performing. I call the ones that are but no one has heard from her. I lock up as I leave but before I go I knock on her neighbour’s door. It cracks open and an elderly woman peers out.

‘Hello.’ I smile brightly. ‘I’m Marie’s sister, Leah.’

She looks blank.

‘Marie? Your next-door neighbour.’

‘Her wiv the hair that changes colour all the time?’

‘Yes. I was wondering when you’d last seen her?’

‘I mind me own business, luvvie. I ain’t seen her, not for a few days.’

‘Have you noticed any visitors?’

‘As I said, me duck, I keep meself to meself. Noticed you the other day, though. And there was a blonde girl.’

‘That’s Carly, my other sister. Anyone else?’

‘There were a man. Later that day. But like I said—’

‘A man?’ A chill feathers its way down my spine. ‘What did he look like?’

‘Couldn’t tell you, duckie. I don’t take much notice. He were tall though, with dark hair, and he hadn’t bothered to shave. In my day a suitor—’

Him. She has described him.

‘And have you seen Marie? After the man came here?’

‘No. But then, I’m not one for being in other people’s business.’